Summary: Diavolos gets Kenna to take a break while they’re working out the logistics of ruling two kingdoms.
The most difficult part of working out the logistics of ruling two kingdoms turns out to be having to sit still for more than a few minutes at a time. Given that neither of them is fond of or used to sitting still for long, Kenna isn’t all that surprised at how time-consuming everything is, or how easily annoyed and bored she and Diavolos both get.
It doesn’t help that Diavolos is exceptionally skilled at distracting her with his mouth and his hands and his suggestive comments. She tells him he’s insatiable one day when he persuades her to sneak off to their bed chambers in the middle of the afternoon, and he just smirks as he strips his clothes off and says, “I haven’t heard you complain yet, Queen Kenna”. He has her there.
They’re sitting in the war room one afternoon, two days before the wedding, discussing the merits of living in Stormholt versus Abanthus.
“So we’ll live in Stormholt most of the time?” Kenna clarifies.
“Yes. The less time I have to spend in Lykos listening to Zenobia complain about the lack of fights and parties, the better,” Diavolos comments.
Kenna frowns. “Speaking of Zenobia…who will manage the day to day operations of Abanthus, since we’ll be here most of the time?”
“Oh gods,” Diavolos groans. “We can’t leave Zenobia in charge. Someone will murder her. Or she’ll try and murder everyone else.”
“Adder?” Kenna suggests.
“That might be marginally less of a disaster.”
“They could run it together,” Kenna muses.
Diavolos leans back in his chair, stretching his arms up and then resting them behind his head, fingers laced together. “That’s an idea.”
“So then we have to figure out…” Kenna stops, raising an eyebrow as Diavolos stands and leans against the table next to her.
“Let’s take a break,” Diavolos suggests.
“We still have to figure out who will oversee Stormholt when we’re both in Abanthus,” she points out.
“It will still be there for us to figure out later,” Diavolos argues back, smirking at her.
Diavolos pushes Kenna’s chair back and lifts her up easily, turning and setting her down on the edge of the table.
“We’re in the war room. Anyone could walk in,” Kenna says, distracted as Diavolos pushes her top out of the way and kisses her neck.
“I’ll latch the door.”
“We need to focus,” she protests.
“I am focused,” Diavolos says, his breath tickling her ear.
“That’s not what I-” Kenna groans as Diavolos presses her into the table, pinning her hands at her sides and biting at her shoulder.
“The door,” she manages to gasp.
Diavolos latches the door without a word, then returns to the table, swiftly pushing her skirt up and over her hips. He pulls her back upright, then presses his mouth to hers, biting at her lower lip. One of his hands runs teasingly over her knee, skates over her inner thigh, then wanders higher, pulling her undergarments down and running his finger between her folds.
“It would appear you’re also focused, my love,” Diavolos breathes in her ear.
Kenna groans against his mouth. It had taken him all of two days to realize how much it made her want him when he called her “my love”. It had taken him the same amount of time to figure out that it drove her crazy when he touched the small of her back, or ran his fingers over the sensitive skin on the inside of her wrist, or brushed her hair over her neck, under the pretense of being able to more easily look over her shoulder at whatever they happened to be working on.
He’s a master at keeping his touches and comments innocent enough that no one around them seems to notice, but his cocky grin every time she gives him a warning glance tells her he knows <i>exactly</i> what he’s doing. The most frustrating thing is when everyone else is just out of hearing range, and he mutters all the things he wants to do to her in her ear. Kenna isn’t one to get easily flustered, but he never fails to make her flush and contemplate dragging him out of the room and into their quarters.
“Wouldn’t you agree?” Diavolos murmurs, easily sliding two fingers into her, that familiar smug grin spreading across his face as Kenna inhales sharply, bracing her hands against the table and moving restlessly against his hand.
He pumps his fingers in and out, setting a pace that drives her close to the edge. Diavolos curls his fingers, his eyes darkening as she moans his name. As much as he’s a master at teasing her and seems to be utterly unflappable, Kenna has figured out how quickly he unravels when he knows how badly she wants him, especially when his name drips off of her lips in that breathy moan.
She whimpers when he stops suddenly, resting his hands on her thighs. Kenna watches through hooded eyes as he steps back and pushes her knees apart, then undoes his pants.
“I’ll take my time with you later,” he says in a low voice, wrapping a hand under one of her thighs and tugging it around his hip.
“You promise?” Kenna asks in a teasing tone, not missing the way his eyes narrow and his breath hitches when she reaches forward and runs her hand up and down over him.
“Have I ever not followed through?” Diavolos asks, then moves her hand away and kisses her deeply, swallowing her cry as he slams into her.
There’s a sense of urgency as they move together, and she can feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins, knowing they have to hurry if they don’t want to risk getting caught. Diavolos yanks her head to the side, his lips rough and insistent against her neck, his stubble scraping deliciously over her skin. His movements become erratic, his control wavering as he clamps his hands under her thighs to hold her against him.
Kenna had been so close already, it takes hardly any time at all before she’s gasping his name, her breaths shallow and panting. She buries her face in his neck as he slips a hand between her legs, muffling her cries as she remembers just in time that they aren’t in their chambers and there are people milling all around the castle. Diavolos grunts as she clenches around him, thrusting into her hard and bringing them both over the edge.
“Hells,” he groans after a moment, dropping his forehead to hers and gently lowering her legs, tracing his thumbs over her thighs. He kisses her slowly, grinning as she works to control her breathing.
They both jump as several people walk by right outside the door, chattering loudly. Kenna shoves against Diavolos’ chest. He smirks as he lifts her off the table and she rushes to straighten out her clothing, Diavolos doing his pants up at a leisurely pace. Someone rattles against the door and Kenna hastily unlatches and opens it, smoothing her skirt down.
Val eyes them suspiciously. “Why was the door latched?”
“Don’t ask that question, Val,” Adder instructs, walking in behind her. “Kenna, you cannot give Zenobia the run of Abanthus when you two are here in Stormholt.”
“We’re still figuring that out,” Kenna says, fighting back a groan as Zenobia storms into the room.
“Diavolos!” she cries. “I demand to have control of Abanthus when you’re in…this place,” she says, wrinkling her nose.
Adder laughs. “You can’t be serious. You, run a kingdom?”
Kenna sinks into a chair as they start bickering, Zenobia getting more and more frustrated as Adder antagonizes her. Val mutters something under her breath as she walks back out. Diavolos runs a sympathetic hand over Kenna’s back as he sits next to her.
“We could sneak out,” he suggests.
“We have to figure this out at some point,” Kenna sighs. “Might as well get it over with.”
Diavolos flashes her that damn smug grin, his hand trailing lower, slipping under her shirt and running his thumb over the small of her back. “They’ll be arguing for a while, I’d bet,” he murmurs quietly in her ear.
“Diavolos,” she says warningly, pointedly keeping her eye on Adder and Zenobia and trying in vain to ignore the way his hand feels on her bare skin.
“I can think of much better ways to spend our time, my love,” he whispers, his breath warm against her skin.
Kenna groans quietly. Damn him.